


Rumor has it (wrong)

by AmithiaEmrys (amithia)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: But they don't know they are pining, Canon Era, Crack, First Kiss, Humor, Idiots, M/M, Merlin is a Little Shit, Mutual Pining, Season 2-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amithia/pseuds/AmithiaEmrys
Summary: Apparently, Merlin has a reputationArthur is determined to ruin itNo way in hell is his clumsy servant better at kissing than the bloody Prince of Camelot***Based onthis prompt.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 239





	Rumor has it (wrong)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YouKeepMeRight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouKeepMeRight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [More than I bargained for](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347929) by [follow_your_fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/follow_your_fire/pseuds/follow_your_fire). 



> This prompt was once given to me by [ YouKeepMeRight](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/YouKeepMeRight) and I promised I would write it one day. 
> 
> Coincidentally, today is also her birthday, so... Happy birthday, babe! This is my gift to you. Not only because of your birthday (that is just an excuse, really, lol), but as a thank you for all your support and lovely comments that keep me going <3
> 
> I should probably explain how I knew when your birthday is, right? *sweats* It's not because of Merlin Fic Book Club. I actually ACCIDENTALLY found out when I started follwing you on Tumblr. I promise I wasn't stalking you, lol. But you wrote your birthday in the post about 30 questions and I was already in the middle of writing this fic, and I already meant to dedicate it to you. And then I found out about your birthday and I rushed to finish it off yesterday and today. So here it is, yaaay! :D I know your prompt suggested modern AU, but I felt this fits better :)
> 
> I'm not crazy, I promise *sweats more profusely* 
> 
> Also, big hugs to [ Sable_Nakahara](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Sable_Nakahara) for editing this quickly so I could publish today <3

Merlin could be clumsy on his best days. Everybody knows that. Merlin knows that.

Arthur, however, not only knows that, he also takes great pleasure in reminding Merlin of his infamous inability to act and perform his duties as any half-decent servant should.

“Is there anything you can actually do, Merlin?” Arthur taunts mockingly when Merlin yelps and lands painfully on his backside with a loud thud after he slipped on a puddle of water he’d spilled while pouring the Prince a cup.

Merlin only scowls in response to the infuriatingly smug face Arthur makes, while snickering into his cup as he takes a sip.

“You’re an arse,” Merlin hisses through his teeth, whimpering as he scrambles up onto his knees, then his feet. He can already feel a bruise forming.

As usual, Arthur conveniently overlooks the fact his servant is insulting him. “At least my arse could take an impact like that and come out unscathed,” he says instead, seemingly oblivious to the ambiguity the statement holds, and Merlin ducks his head to hide a blush.

“Only because it’s so fat,” he shoots back, muttering under his breath loud enough for Arthur to hear.

“Excuse me?!”

“Nothing,” Merlin replies quickly and straightens up. “Will there be anything else, _Sire_?” he adds, putting as much sarcasm into the last word as he can muster.

Arthur narrows his eyes at him, picking up on the teasing tone right away. Then his features smooth out and a familiar, menacing grin appears on his lips. “Yes, actually,” he says way too cheerfully for Merlin’s liking.

In his mind, Merlin is calling Arthur every curse-word he knows even before Arthur begins reciting a never-ending list of duties for Merlin to perform. Merlin is exhausted just thinking about doing them, magic or no magic.

“Is that it?” Merlin presses out with a strain in his voice when Arthur finally trails off after two minutes. No way in hell is he gonna give the prat the satisfaction of acknowledging how overwhelmed he is.

“That’s it,” Arthur nods, more to himself than Merlin. “On the other hand,” he continues just as Merlin is turning to make his leave, “I could use a bath. Fill up the tub for me, make sure it’s hot.” He pauses and snickers again. “That is, if you’re capable of doing that.” He purses his lips, eyes glinting with mischief. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s anything you’re actually good at.”

It takes all the willpower he has for Merlin not to show Arthur right then and there just how talented he is in a certain and very illegal area. Merlin does have a bit of a temper, but he also has common sense. No matter how pleasant it would be to watch Arthur falter at a display of magic. In the end, Merlin would only achieve getting himself beheaded at best, and burnt at the stake at worst.

It would be way more satisfactory to trump the posh prat at something Arthur believes he’s good at. That would hit really hard, bursting the fragile bubble of his ego. Unfortunately, Merlin knows there’s nothing except magic (and intelligence) he’s better at than the prat.

Merlin doesn’t know how to fight, not with swords or his fists.

He’s no good nor interested in hunting.

Women don’t swoon at the sight of him and they don’t fall at his feet.

Merlin laughs internally at the latter. Arthur probably thinks he’s a gods’ gift to women, that anyone would be lucky to be bestowed with his presence and attention.

And okay, Merlin is not blind; he knows what Arthur looks like. So he can kind of understand why Arthur would feel confident and superior in that area. Still, looks don’t equal skills. For what Merlin knows, the only reason Arthur gets lucky is due to his noble status. Not only is he nobility, he’s also the freaking Prince of Camelot.

Being the Prince of Camelot also most likely means Arthur doesn’t see a reason to put effort into making sure he’s doing it right. Merlin would bet Arthur doesn’t even know how to give a decent, let alone toe-curling kiss.

Technically, Merlin doesn’t know either. But he’s sure that with just the tiniest bit of practice, he would become way better than Arthur might be.

It’s a real shame Merlin doesn’t have much experience in that regard. Not unless you count the couple of chaste kisses he shared with Freya, and some messy, uncoordinated attempts at snogging with Will, many years ago. It _is_ a shame. Can you imagine? Merlin, a simple servant, surpassing someone of noble blood in that department.

Arthur would never live that down.

Merlin grows still, holding his breath as ideas swirl and bounce in his head. He gives the Prince a slow, deliberate smirk.

_Arthur would never live that down._

* * *

Getting the employees of the royal household to join Merlin in his master-plan to shatter Arthur’s ego into pieces proves to be way easier than Merlin would have anticipated. He definitely underestimated how mischievous Camelot’s servants could be.

Although the Prince is clearly loved by his people, nobody can deny the man is also a giant clotpole (despite not having said so outloud). Merlin shouldn’t be surprised that everyone literally jumps at the opportunity to take their revenge. Plus, what other joy do servants have other than gossiping and spreading rumors, uncaring whether they are true or not.

The only person who shows a sign of hesitation is Gwen. Too loyal and dignified for her own good, but eventually, she relents. It probably has to do with the fact that Morgana herself gleefully agrees to participate in the little charade.

 _This is the best idea I’ve ever had_ , Merlin thinks proudly and mentally pats himself on the shoulder.

* * *

The rumors, when they start, are fairly easy to ignore. Arthur is preoccupied with his training and other duties his Father keeps throwing at him. He doesn’t have time to eavesdrop on the peasants’ gossip, however intriguing the topic might be.

However, when the rumors don’t stop - on the contrary, they get more frequent, the stories more intense - he grows alert. And skeptical.

“I’m telling you, Helga,” Arthur overhears on his way to his chambers after his morning training, “I nearly fainted, it was so good.” His interest piqued, he strains his ears to hear more. He doesn’t have to try so hard. For some reason, the woman isn’t trying to keep her voice down despite being in public. Arthur would likely be able to hear even if she lowered her voice. The sound would still carry throughout the hall.

“Tell me,” the other servant prompts breathlessly.

“Oh, I don’t know where to start,” the one who spoke first continues. “Merlin just has the softest lips in the world. It’s like kissing silk, only better.”

Arthur nearly swallows his tongue, first at the mention of his servants name, then at the analogy. Merlin? Soft lips? Silky lips? What. On. Earth?!

The other woman sighs longingly. “I wish I were there, in your place.”

“You might still get a turn,” the first one says encouragingly. “I know for sure I’m not the only one who has been granted the privilege of tasting those lips.”

Something hot and ugly swirls in Arthur’s gut and he takes off before he can hear more.

What the hell does Merlin think he’s doing?!

* * *

To his consternation, Arthur can’t seem to avoid the rumors, however hard he tries. Wherever he goes, he hears of Merlin’s (apparently) unparalleled, um, skill. It also seems that Merlin has no qualms exercising that skill all over the castle. All over Arthur’s castle, dammit!

Arthur’s never heard anyone talk about _his_ skill in that area. It’s not like he just goes around and kisses everyone he passes by (like Merlin seems to do), but there is definitely a significant number of servants who have been graced with the unequalled privilege of being kissed by the Prince of Camelot. Surely, if there are to be rumors, they should be about Arthur!

Or maybe not? Maybe that’s the thing. Maybe no one dares gossip about that _because_ he’s the Prince. Arthur wouldn’t mind, not really, but his Father might. And the servants probably know it. Yes. That makes sense. That must be it.

Satisfied with the justification, Arthur’s mind finally finds peace.

* * *

The peace lasts only until Arthur passes Gwen in a hall. She’s carrying a small bouquet of freshly picked flowers, cheeks tinted pink as she gives Arthur an acknowledging nod before ducking her head shyly.

“Guinevere,” Arthur calls softly, giving a nod of his own. Gwen stops walking, biting her lip nervously as she turns to Arthur.

“My Lord.”

“You look...” he trails off, looking for the right word. “Has something exceptionally good happened?” he asks instead, eagerly waiting for an answer when Gwen doesn’t meet his eyes. “Who are the flowers from?”

“Oh,” Gwen says and giggles. “Those are from Merlin,” she admits bashfully. Her gaze flicks to Arthur’s before she averts her eyes again. “He’s really charming, isn’t he?” she asks, but it sounds mostly rhetorical. She has this dreamy look on her face and Arthur immediately turns suspicious. “And a wonderful kisser.”

Arthur feels his hackles rise. What the hell is going on?

He lets Gwen ramble on for a bit, clenching his jaw the whole time to prevent himself from saying something untoward. Finally, after several minutes of Gwen gushing about his servants lips, he curtly excuses himself and all but runs to his chambers.

This needs to stop. Arthur needs to stop this. He can’t have Merlin wandering around the castle and kissing everyone in his wake.

No, scratch that. Arthur can’t have _his servant_ wandering around the castle and kissing everyone in his wake.

Merlin can’t do that. He’s Arthur’s servant, he must not go around and kiss other servants. Arthur won’t allow that.

 _It would put me in a bad light, having such a promiscuous servant,_ Arthur reasons to himself. _Plus, I can’t have my people think that a lowly (and clumsy!) servant is more skilled than me._

Yes, he will put a stop to this.

* * *

Of course, the most logical thing would be to gather everyone who’s become besotted with Merlin’s (surly over-exaggerated) kissing skills. Arthur is almost, _almost_ determined to do just that.

His plan promptly flies out of the window when the next person he hears the praise from is Morgana. As beautiful as she is, Arthur wouldn’t be able to get over the fact the two of them grew up together. Morgana is practically his sister, that’s just... yuck!

He could make Morgana an exception, though, couldn’t he? Could keep her out of this and ensure that everyone else knows how wrong they are. But Morgana still wouldn’t know any better. No, that won’t work. Arthur needs to come up with a better solution.

The more he thinks about it, the clearer it becomes to him that it’s not the opinion of those women Merlin has kissed that bothers Arthur. Well, it does bother him to a degree, of course it does. He’s the Prince of Camelot, if there’s going to be gossip about someone’s unsurpassed kissing skills, it should be about him, no matter what his Father might say. Arthur doubts Uther had been a saint before he met Ygraine. And he probably wasn’t one after that either.

But even if Arthur did go ahead with that plan, even if he did find every single one of those women and kiss them so thoroughly they would collapse in his arms from going all weak-kneed, it wouldn’t eradicate the possibility of Merlin still believing he’s the best there is.

No, if Arthur is to do this right, he has to make sure that no one, most of all Merlin, thinks there’s anyone better than Arthur. He’s the future King of Camelot, it’s his responsibility to ensure there are no doubts about that.

His mind made up, Arthur takes in a lungful of air, puffing his chest out in preparation.

“ _Meer_ lin!”

* * *

“Yes, S _ire?_ ” Merlin greets mockingly when he manifests in Arthur’s chambers, looking as shabby and unremarkable as ever.

 _Well, his ears are remarkable_ , Arthur thinks, smirking to himself. Of their own accord, his eyes land on Merlin’s lips. _Those_ lips.

Arthur snaps his head up, shaking himself off. _Focus!_

“So, _Mer_ lin,” he starts mysteriously. Merlin lifts a questioning eyebrow in Gaius’ fashion. Arthur doesn’t like it. “You might have noticed there have been rumors lately,” he continues.

“You will have to be more specific,” Merlin replies, smiling smugly, and Arthur just _knows_ that Merlin knows exactly what Arthur’s on about.

“You know bloody well.”

Merlin’s lips stretch into a feral smile and Arthur wants to kiss it away.

 _Wipe it away!_ Arthur corrects himself, appalled. _Wipe it away, preferably with the back of my hand!_

“I’m afraid I do not.”

That’s it. Arthur’s had enough. Not only has he been overshadowed by Merlin in _that_ regard, he’s also being made fun of by him.

Squinting in what Arthur hopes is a threatening manner, he stomps toward Merlin in long, sure steps, until they are nearly chest to chest. To his satisfaction, the annoying smirk is gone from Merlin’s face, replaced by confusion and nervousness. _Good._

“You are my servant,” Arthur says darkly. “You are a servant to the Prince, to the future King. And I have a reputation to uphold.” Another step. “I won’t have my servant kissing every single passerby. Do you have any idea how that would make me look?”

At first, Merlin just blinks at him in confusion. And then, to Arthur’s annoyance, the smirk is back, even wider, even more frustrating. “I don’t, actually,” Merlin retorts. “Please, do tell.”

Arthur’s next words are more of a snarl than anything else. “You will cease those... extracurricular activities of yours. I advise- no, I _require_ you find a less promiscuous hobby.”

Merlin laughs to his face, eyes gleaming with mirth. “Promiscuous? You call kissing promiscuous?” he ask incredulously. He gives Arthur a contemplating once-over. “You know, _my Lord.”_ Arthur scowls at the tone. “I’m not sure that is what’s bothering you.” Merlin pauses for effect. “It seems to me you’re jealous.”

Arthur bristles. He’s not jealous! Why would he be jealous? Merlin can kiss whoever he wants, Arthur doesn’t care about that. Arthur is the Prince, he could have anyone he wanted. Why would he want Merlin? That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t care who Merlin kisses if it wasn’t for the gossip.

“I’m not jealous!” he squeals indignantly.

“Are you sure?” Merlin teases. “It doesn’t bother you that a simple-minded servant is a better kisser that you, the Prince?”

Oh. That’s what Merlin meant by being jealous.

Arthur feels heat rise to his cheeks, convincing himself it’s from the anger Merlin always invokes in him.

“You think rather highly of yourself, don’t you?” Arthur shoots back. “I bet that if I went and kissed all those women you have, they would promptly forget about you.”

“So why don’t you?” Merlin challenges.

“Something tells me _you_ would still think yourself better than me.”

“Hm.” Merlin pretends to ponder the thought. “You’re right, I would,” he admits with a shrug, smiling victoriously. “So what are you going to do about that?”

What is Arthur going to do?

There’s only one thing he can do, isn’t there?

“This,” he growls and grabs Merlin by his bony shoulders, walking him backwards and roughly shoving him against the doors.

Merlin lets out a surprised yelp as his back hits the doors, and Arthur sees his lips part, preparing to say something. Arthur doesn’t care, he knows how to shut Merlin up.

He surges forward and smashes their mouths together, not at all gently, and swallows down Merlin’s gasp straight from his mouth. Merlin’s hands are on Arthur’s arms, grasping at the fabric of his jacket.

Arthur pulls away only long enough to take a proper breath, then claims Merlin’s lips in another kiss before he can say something stupid and annoying, like he always does. Merlin’s fingers are curling and clenching in the fabric, but the longer Arthur kisses him, the more Merlin relaxes, until he’s releasing his hold in favor of sliding those long, slender fingers into Arthur’s golden locks. Merlin goes slack against the doors, further supported by Arthur’s body pressed snugly against his, and parts his lips slightly.

Arthur seizes the opportunity, the strategist he is, and takes Merlin’s upper lip between his own. Merlin whimpers into his mouth and Arthur preens at the reaction. He _knew_ Merlin would go weak in the knees, just like anyone else would.

Now that he’s finally proven himself, he takes his time appreciating the moment. Yes, Arthur most definitely is a better kisser than Merlin, but that doesn’t mean the rumors were untrue.

Merlin’s lips are indeed unfathomably soft, softer than silk. His plush mouth fits perfectly into Arthur’s, like it was made for it, for him.

Arthur must have gotten carried away by his wandering thoughts, because in the next second Merlin grips him by the shoulders, just as Arthur did to him minutes ago. He dislodges their lips and pushes Arthur backwards, then does a 180 with him until their positions are reversed and all but slams Arthur against the doors in return.

Arthur’s eyes are like saucers as he stares at Merlin, taking in his red, swollen lips and blown-wide pupils. His breath catches in his throat when Merlin gives him a slow, secretive smirk, then dives forward to suck the breath straight out of Arthur’s lungs.

Throwing caution to the wind, Arthur gives up the control he’s been desperately trying to maintain and gives as good as he gets. Merlin’s mouth is relentless against his, nipping at Arthur’s lips, then soothing the subtle sting with his tongue. Merlin nudges his lips apart and Arthur grants him access, letting Merlin slide their tongues together and moaning when Merlin’s taste overtakes his senses.

He should put up a fight, he really should. Establish his dominance and show Merlin who is in charge. But the push-pull dance of their mouths and tongues feels too good, way too good for Arthur to care. So he doesn’t.

It’s not long before their lungs start screaming for air, and to Arthur’s shock, it’s Merlin who pulls away first.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “that was... nice.”

Arthur huffs out a laugh, coming back to his senses. “Finally, you see the truth,” he comments arrogantly. “Glad we cleared that up.”

“What truth?” Merlin questions with a furrow between his brows. “Cleared what up?”

“That I’m a better kisser than you,” Arthur says simply, like it’s obvious and Merlin is just daft.

Merlin stares in disbelief. “You have got to be joking,” he demands incredulously. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“I’m just stating the obvious,” Arthur shrugs, feeling out of place now that the heat of the moment is gone.

“You’re obviously a prat!” Merlin exclaims indignantly. “And a royal one.”

“The royal part is right,” Arthur says. “So you better show me some respect.”

Arthur’s gut _does not_ clench at the dark look that passes across Merlin’s face. “Oh, I’ll show you alright.” And once more, he renders Arthur speechless.

* * *

“As your prince, and the future King, I forbid you to kiss anyone else,” Arthur says out of nowhere, two days later. He doesn’t look at Merlin as he speaks. He sinks back into his chair, popping a grape into his mouth. “Ever.”

Merlin falters where he’s stripping Arthur’s bed, “But-”

“I won’t have you kissing everyone who bats their eyelashes at you. Everybody already knows you’re the worst servant in the Five Kingdoms, but God help me if I let my people think that I have a common harlot for a servant.”

“Hey!” Merlin protests, offended.

“None of this, Merlin,” Arthur says lowly, suddenly serious. “Not anymore.”

“You utter pillock,” Merlin huffs, abandoning his momentary task and walking towards Arthur. He sighs resignedly. “I’ve never even kissed any of those people.”

Arthur chokes on the grape. “What?”

“I- well...” Merlin stutters, dropping his gaze.

“Merlin?”

“I made it up, okay?” he announces despairingly. “Everyone you’ve heard waxing poetic about me and my lips? I asked them to do it.”

Arthur gapes at him, blinking owlishly. “So they all... lied?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Arthur narrows his eyes, sitting up straighter. “Mind your tongue, Merlin.”

“Or what? You’ll remove it?” Merlin challenges mockingly. He gives Arthur a knowing look. “I think you’d find soon enough what a pity that would be.”

Blushing furiously, Arthur rises from his chair, hoping that he looks menacing. “Merlin, I swear to God-”

“Yes, they lied.” Merlin rolls his eyes, annoyed that he needs to spell it out for Arthur. “I asked them to lie for me.”

“Why? So you could feed your ego?” Arthur suggests. Suddenly, a thought occurs to him and he grins manically. “Do you feel threatened by me?”

It’s Merlin’s turn to gape like a fish out of water. “Sheesh, you’re so full of yourself.” He shakes his head. “Keep going like this and soon your head will be so big it won’t fit in your helmet.” He chuckles to himself. “Maybe even as big as your waist.”

Arthur sucks in a breath, ready to send Merlin to the stocks for his insults. But there’s something he can’t shake off.

“You know,” he starts in a sing-song voice. “All those insults you throw at me. They don’t really match up with how desperate you were to kiss me.”

“What?”

Arthur smiles slowly, predatory. “Maybe you keep insulting me because you can’t cope with how attracted you are too me,” he continues as though he’s discussing the weather, pleased with himself when he watches color drain from Merlin’s face. “Maybe you’re just hopelessly in love with me.”

“No!” Merlin shouts, almost hyperventilating as he stays rooted to the spot. "That’s not- I’m not- I’m just-”

“Totally crazy about me.”

“I’m not-”

“It’s okay if you are, Merlin,” Arthur mock-comforts. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

Wide-eyed, Merlin hides his face in his palms. “God, I hate you.”

Arthur chuckles, pleased beyond belief. “Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“Shut up, you cabbage head,” Merlin snaps, revealing his face so he can glare daggers at Arthur.

Arthur doesn’t know what possesses him, but seeing Merlin’s eyes glow with fury and embarrassment awakens something inside him. And before he knows it, his mouth falls open and words tumble out. “Make me.”

It doesn’t take long for Merlin’s shock to be replaced with determination. He squares his shoulders and lifts up his chin, accepting the challenge.

In one beat and the next, he’s standing in front of Arthur, confident and just a little bit dangerous, and Arthur forgets to breathe. In imitation of last time, Merlin grips him by his shoulders and pushes him down, back in the chair, before he climbs in Arthur’s lap, straddling his Prince.

He cards his hands through Arthur’s hair and pulls, smiling wickedly. “You’re so going to regret that.”

Arthur thinks he can live with the consequences.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a canon and SFW version of my other (modern and very much NSFW) [ fic ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347929/chapters/66820879) :D


End file.
